Dangerous Drabbles
by wilderness-writer
Summary: A collection of drabbles centered on life for Katara and Zuko after the end of Dangerous Ground.
1. Chapter 2

Welcome, beloved readers, to my collection of drabbles. These are set after the end of Dangerous Ground, and are dedicated to the many wonderful readers and reviewers who liked the story. Although there wasn't enough material for a sequel, there _was_ enough for a set of drabbles...

...the question is...

...am I the writer to do them? -wince- This is my first try at drabbling, and I really hope they're not too awful. If you like them, I am so incredibly happy and I promise to do my best to continue to please you. If you don't like them, I promise to stop the butchery of the art of drabbling and go back to my speciality of epic adventure/romance.

-nervous-

I really hope you like...

**Title: **Morning Sickness  
**Author: **Wilderness Writer  
**Word Count:** 169  
**Warning**: None

I gag and spew into the pot, my stomach cramping as I moan out all the curses I'd ever learned while serving with the rebel earthbenders (Gran-Gran would be rolling in her grave).

I am alone by choice. It's my sixth morning like this, and by now Aang (No! Showing me another stupid earthbending trick is _not_ going to make me feel better!), Sokka (What do you mean 'you should eat something'? Are you_ insane_?), and certainly Zuko (I think I should have let Sokka chop it off when he'd offered! At least then I would be spared this agony!) all know to leave me alone in my misery. I will accept _no one _into the little bathroom with me. No one except-

"Katara, I brought you just what you need."

I smile as Iroh walks into the room, the aroma of Ginseng tea loosening the knots in my stomach already. He kneels as he hands me a cup and beams.

"I knew this would come in handy someday!"


	2. Chapter 3

**Title: **Question  
**Author: **Wilderness Writer  
**Word Count:** 117  
**Warning**: none.

"The Water Tribes to the north are getting agitated about King Omata of the Earth Kingdom. He has yet to dismantle his warships." Zuko's voice carries in the peace room, and several wizened brows knit in thought.

"Demand that they relinquish the ships to us or face the consequences ." One advisor suggests with a haughty glance and a firm grip on his staff.

"Why don't we ask Omata to turn the ships into merchant traders? That way, he can gain a profit and we won't have to threaten him." A child speaks out in the midst of the counsel, golden eyes sparkling with a familiar passion.

Zuko smiles.

He loves it when his son speaks out of turn.


	3. Chapter 4

**Title: **Birth  
**Author: **Wilderness Writer  
**Word Count:** 204

**Rating**: T for mention of blood.  
**Warning: **childbirth, nothing real graphic.

The healer is bent over the young woman whose body lies shuddering on the table. The young woman's eyes are glazed with pain and the small room resounds with her shouts.

"Only a little while longer now." The healer says, putting a cool cloth to the forehead of the soon-to-be mother. The girl howls and thrashes while her eyes dart to the cause of her distress.

"Keep him away from me." The girl seethes, pointing to the man who is standing next to the door with a look of panic on his face. The healer smiles and chuckles. She told him to wait outside, but his pride had gotten to him (as it usually did) and he'd quipped that he could handle a little blood.

The blood comes. And fluid and pain and screaming

And then life!

A child wails and the healer wipes the baby clean and clips the cord, taking a moment to admire the perfection she holds in her arms.

The newborn opens her eyes, a small miracle! They are blue, but the healer knew they'd be. After all, the child's father is from the Water Tribes.

"Here you are, Sukki! A healthy baby girl!" Katara hands the baby over to the beaming mother.


	4. Same Old Trick

**Title: **Same Old Trick  
**Author: **Wilderness Writer  
**Word Count:** 117  
**Warning**: Intimacy, but nothing explicit.

The fire crackles cheerfully in our bedroom.

I stretch out on the silk sheets, letting the weariness of today's council meetings and trading negotiations and endless tribal bickerings melt into the mattress. I sigh and roll over, my eyes alighting on the beautiful woman that lies next to me.

Her head his turned to me, eyes closed and fluttering slightly in sleep. The firelight dances over her skin and I follow the patterns of shadow and light, drinking in her image with a love so strong I have to gasp.

I reach up and tenderly brush aside a tendril of her hair, letting my fingers slide through the spun silk of her tresses. Her lips are pouted slightly. I lean forward and put my mouth to hers, sudden delight filling me like a toddler who has just found himself alone and unguarded beside a box of candy.

She moans and the sound makes the blood rush from my head to... other places... so fast that I feel faint. I wrap my arms around her and draw her against my body, but she pushes me away, mumbling in her sleep. I frown and notice the sweat glistening on her skin.

I lie back down on the bed, closing my eyes in concentration. I focus on my breath, relax my muscles and coax the fire with the energy that is always tingling between me and the flames. Soon, the flickering light in front of my eyelids is drowned in darkness.

I don't have long to wait until the chill of the Fire Nation winter creeps into the room. I feel her shudder beside me, feel the mattress shift and hear the swishing of silk as she wiggles over, whimpering slightly as she searches for warmth.

Her arms wrap around me, the coolness of her skin a pleasant contrast to my continual burning. I smile and collect her into my embrace, taking pleasure in the feel of her soft curves pressed against my bare skin. I close my eyes and whisper into her hair...

"Works every time."


	5. Acceptance

**Title: **Acceptance  
**Author: **Wilderness Writer  
**Word Count:** 550  
**Warning**: None

**Author's Note: **This is a scene that I edited from Dangerous Ground. I scooped it up off the cutting room floor to present to you as a drabble.

"I have a proposition for you, Katara." Pakku says as he settles himself into one of the sumptuous palace cushions. He steeples his fingers and looks at me with the appraising arrogance I'd come to expect from the waterbending master. I level my gaze at him and wait for him to speak. I am relaxed and calm, no longer feeling the need to flex my bending muscles to prove myself beneath his critiquing grey stare.

"I have started up a school in the Northern Tribes. I will be teaching young men... and _women,_" He pauses and lifts an eyebrow at me, as if he were a servant girl divulging some scandalous secret. "...the art of Waterbending. I will be in need of an assistant."

Now it is my turn to raise an eyebrow. I remain silent, however, and wait for Pakku to finish. He seems to enjoy drawing out the suspense, as a smile curls his thin lips.

"I can think of no more accomplished and skilled a fighter than you, Katara. I would like to offer you a chance to help me teach the new students." He leans back folds his arms, staring at me with a benevolent little smirk.

I sit in silence for a while, staring out the large windows at the crashing sea below. I am a little surprised at the strange emotion I am now feeling, or to be more truthful, the lack of it.

Just a few years ago, I would have been flooded with delight at an offer to help train the next generation of waterbending warriors. But now... I feel strangely empty.

No... not empty... at peace. I feel at peace.

"No, Master Pakku. I won't be helping you."

His face hardens and he stares through his thick brows at me. "So, you have lost your fighting spirit then, Katara?" I realize that I have insulted him by refusing his offer. I smile softly and shake my head. I am thankful that, after being married to Zuko for almost a year now, I am well-practiced in the handling of fragile male pride.

"No, Pakku. I have not lost anything. The truth is, I have gained." I pause, collecting my thoughts.

"I once scorned the teachings of the healers. I did so because I wanted to make a difference, and I thought the only way to do that was to fight. I do not regret fighting, for it is by doing so that this war was finally won." I stop again, closing my eyes as the images of wounded soldiers flood my vision, staining it with their crimson blood, as red in my thoughts now as it had been the day I'd seen it spilt on the ground. I open my eyes again and pierce Pakku with a hard gaze.

"But there is a time for fighting. That time is past, and now it is a time for healing. The world has endured enough war." I stand and set my teacup on the table, signaling the end of the meeting. I gather myself up to my full height and stare down at Pakku, who is speechless in his chair.

"I will be teaching a class of young women... and _men _the fine art of healing. You are welcome to attend."

With that, I stride from the room.

O.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.O

**I originally had this little piece in there as a way to show that Katara's character had developed, in that she recognized the important roles healers play, and that she was embracing the ability. Buuuut... I clipped it because I thought it cluttered up the plotline. However, I thought any Pakku fans might enjoy the little conversation. Thanks for reading**!


	6. Practice

**Title: **Practice  
**Author: **Wilderness Writer  
**Word Count:** 187  
**Warning: **K+ for younger readers. T or higher for older readers (depending on your imagination)

**Author's Note:** This has been edited down from its original. Y'all know me, I'm frustratingly tame. ;-)

I watch my husband from the mat laid out in the garden. I can't practice bending, and am grouchy for it (Nine months seems suddenly to be forever).

"Shall I get my lady some tea?" A servant bows and I nod.

The flash of his movements brings my eyes back to Zuko. He has mastered the broadswords, now he works to master the bo staff.

His body arcs in sinuous, powerful motions as he moves through the forms, striking with perfect aim. I watch entranced, as one would watch a fire. How ironic.

Body tensed, he whirls, moving with precision toward the target. Lips parted, he pants as he slices through the air, eyes blazing with intensity. He is fast, body bending, thrusting, arching...

...my mind wanders to tangled silk against fiery skin, steam and smoke and the flicker of candles. Gasps of breath... MORE!

"Kia!" Zuko finishes with a powerful scream.

"My, he certainly is skilled, isn't he?" The servant startles me from my distanced thoughts, and I try not to let her see it as I reach for my tea and smile.

"Yes, he certainly is."


	7. Given

**Title: **Given  
**Author: **Wilderness Writer  
**Word Count:** 244  
**Warning**: Nothing, unless you're allergic to sweet stuff. :-)

The room swells with murmurs of awe and adoration as the Fire Lord stands, bearing in his arms the future heir to the throne. This man-child will one day be one of the most powerful rulers in the world, but for now he is wrapped in soft, fuzzy blankets and gurgling happily in the crook of his father's arm.

"Behold the crown Prince!" Zuko raises his voice and immediately a wave of silence drowns out the murmuring tongues. Hundreds have gathered to witness the Naming Ceremony, and now hundreds of eyes are trained on the lips of the Fire Lord as they wait in barely-contained anticipation.

"He will be called Teikei."

Several faces cloud with confusion. They don't understand why their future Lord should be named after an obscure, albeit legendary, earthbender rebel. Is it not tradition to name the heir after the Grandsire? Or, at the very least, a powerful Fire Nation ancestor?

They don't understand, but it is a forgivable offense. After all, they hadn't been there when an old warrior had given a dishonored young boy what he had wanted most: respect.

They hadn't been there when an old warrior had given a mistreated young boy what deserved most: compassion.

They hadn't been there when an old warrior had lain dying, giving the world an army, a fortress, a legacy.

But most important of all, he'd given a desperate and troubled young man what he had _needed_ most: A father's love.


	8. Chapter 8

Hey! I'm back, everyone! Didja miss me?

I've received a whole bunch of requests for a drabble of Zuko's point of view from Dangerous Ground. So, in deference to you, my beloved and cherished readers, I present this drabble. It was originally intended to be the first scene of Dangerous Ground, and in Zuko's POV. Of course, I changed my mind and decided to tell the whole story through Katara's POV, but I thought it might be fun to show you the first spark of idea...

Title: Warm

Author: Wilderness

Word Count: 1069 It's a doozy!

Warning: Fluffy angsty Zuko-y goodness

Cold.

Her forehead was so jarringly icy against his palm that Zuko was almost able to ignore the electric tingle that ran up his fingers and through the muscles of his arm as he touched her.

He didn't think he'd ever touched something so cold in all his life.

No, wait...

There was that one time. As a bouncing toddler, no more than three and still innocent of the ugliness and betrayal that had come to mark his life, he had managed to wander away from his nurses and lose himself in the many winding halls and corridors of the palace.

It had been fun at first, exploring the many hidden alcoves and dusty, forgotten corners. But his childish enthusiasm soon gave way to hunger and fatigue, and he had begun to look for the nurse who was always by his side.

But she, of course, wasn't there. He'd lost her a long time ago.

He'd began running. Faster and faster, panic swelling for the first time in his tiny body. He'd yelled for his nurse, for his mother, even for his father, but all that had met his pleas were echoes and the lifeless stirring of the curtains as they bent beneath some heated breeze.

He remembered the feel of his own tears running down his face and dripping hotly on his silk shirt as he ran from room to room, looking for someone... for _anyone._

That's when he had seen the figure standing by the doorway of the war room. Tall and stiff-backed, the man's warlike features were hardly enough to scare the little prince, who ran toward the figure with exuberant relief.

He crashed into the figure's legs, only to find himself on the floor a moment later with a large bruise on his forehead. Instead of soft flesh, he'd ran into the solid metal limbs of a statue. Hopelessness had crashed down again on the boy's shoulders as he reached forward to touch the painted skin, his fingers finding only bloodless cold and reassurance that he was truly alone.

They'd found him a short time later, curled up at the cold statue's feet, the nurse breathless and hovering between apology and reproof as she comforted the sobbing little prince.

Katara's shuddering breath broke through Zuko's memories. He stared down at her still form, which was already as cold as death, though her pulse was still beating faintly and slowly beneath her skin.

They'd been locked in the freezing little dungeon for hours now, and Zuko could see Katara's life slipping from her with each second that passed. Although the cold sickness was a rare affliction in the Fire Nation, he'd learned enough of battlefield medicine to know with certainty that if the girl wasn't warmed soon, she would be just as lifeless as the statue. The fingerings of fear began to creep into the Prince's heart.

"So what?" Zuko shouted as he backed away from the girl. Scowling, he turned to face the wall.

_So what if she dies? I'm not a little child anymore, I do not fear being alone. _He squared his shoulders and set his jaw firmly. He would not be weak.

_But she saved your life, Prince Zuko! _Iroh's admonishing voice was a nudge in the back of Zuko's mind and he curled his lip at it distastefully. He hated the thought of owing the girl a mercy-debt.

_She is my enemy! I owe her nothing. Her death will just be another_ _obstacle out of my way._

_You speak so lightly of life and death, nephew. Have you no honor?... to let a woman die in your presence when you have the power to save her?_

_She is not a woman! She is my enemy!_

_Is she?_

Zuko cringed and grit his teeth at the simple question. He turned to face her again. There, in helpless slumber, lay the same girl who had fought with such vicious agility at the North Pole, keeping him from his goal. It was the same girl who had stubbornly refused to give him information on the Avatar, who had tied him up after the fight in the forest...

...and fed him while he lay broken and helpless on the Bison's back. She had covered him with an extra blanket when the night had become cold. She had been merciful and gentle with him no matter how much he had taunted and aggravated her, her luminous blue eyes had stared unflinchingly into his, trespassing lines of status. Her fingertips had eased the pain of his bruises with such gentle, delicate touches...

Zuko's hand trembled a little as he reached forward to touch the girl's cheek again, and he convinced himself that it was simply the cold that made his muscles feel weak as his skin brushed hers.

He also convinced himself that it was because he owed her a life debt that he was now taking off his warm shirt and laying it on the ground beneath her. He convinced himself that the reason he was gently plucking at the knot that held her cloak around her delicate throat was because no man with any honor would let a woman die if he had the power to save her.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes as he began to strip her of her clothes, knowing that the only way she would warm in time was for her skin to meet his with as little interference as possible. He tried to ignore the flush of heat that rose to his cheeks as he got her down to only the light shirt and pants she wore beneath her outer layers. He decided to stop there, knowing that she would awake eventually, and if she found herself naked next to him, his life would likely be the one in danger.

He convinced himself that he hated her, even as he curled his body tightly around hers, drawing her delicate frame firmly against his chest as he breathed warmth into her hair and against her neck. Focusing on the inner flame continually burning within him, he raised his body temperature to compensate for her coldness.

But, as he lay there with her in the silence and stillness of their cell, feeling her body draw heat from his with hungry need, he could not convince himself of one thing...

He had never felt warmer in his entire life.

Did you like it? I really really hope so! I went swimming in the waterfalls by my house the other day, and got mild hypothermia. Unfortunately, no angsty, hot firebender showed up to warm me. Alas...


End file.
